Finding Autumn

By: Beth Michele

Prologue





~Olivia~



One Year Ago





I turned the doorknob to the apartment quietly, ensuring I could sneak in without being heard. Excitement and nervousness coursed through my veins. This was big for me. I wasn’t usually that daring so it’s a surprise I knew he would never see coming.

Slowly, I tiptoed across the wood floor of the living room, hesitating when the slats creaked beneath my feet. With extra light footfalls, I cautiously continued down the hall to his bedroom, pausing at the door to take a deep breath. Looking up, I noticed it was cracked open. With a cheshire grin stretched clear across my face, I loosened the belt loops on my trench coat to reveal my very naked body, pushed open the door, and yelled, “Surprise!” only to discover that the surprise was definitely on me—clueless, naïve, me. Sean and Kimberly, the slut from apartment 4B, were wrapped around one another like vines. They jolted apart at the sound of my voice, shock forcing its way out of Sean’s guilty green stare. Kimberly, on the other hand, smiled like the cat that just swallowed the canary.

Apparently, I was the canary in this scenario.

Sean pulled the sheet over his very obvious erection. “What are you doing here?” he asked, as if I had no right to be in his home. At that very moment, I felt like I was in some bad B movie. Even my novels were better than this.

“You disgust me,” I bit out, but I knew my eyes betrayed me, tears filling them to the brink. I was completely at risk of giving him the satisfaction of knowing just how much this affected me. Before I did that though, I ripped the engagement ring off my finger and threw it at him, shouting, “You’re an asshole, and it’s over!” I covered myself up quickly, running out of the apartment and stumbling down to my car. Once inside, I banged my head against the steering wheel as the floodgates opened, tears cracking my heart in two.

I felt humiliated, foolish, and gullible, along with a number of other choice words that would fit this situation so perfectly. But there were only two words zooming around in my head.

Never again.





Chapter One





~Olivia~





So, this is my life.

I realize this statement sounds like a complaint, when in reality I have nothing to bitch about. I’m twenty-seven years old and I write best-selling erotic romance novels under the pen name Autumn Winters. I know it may sound cheesy, but I’m attached to the seasons, what can I say? I live on the East Coast, my home a penthouse on the Upper East Side of Manhattan with my beagle, Charlie.

I’m not whining. Really, I’m not. I get to live in my own little world, a fantasyland inside my head. It certainly beats the reality of my life. My characters are absolute perfection. The females are always smart and beautiful, well endowed, curvy, relatively carefree. Of course, they aren’t the ones I fall in love with. The ones I fall hard for are tall, dark, and muscular, have kissable lips, the perfect V, and the rest—let’s just say I have a vivid imagination.

Sounds like a good life, right?

It was perfect until twelve months ago… but I’m over that now. I’m done trying to have serious, long-term relationships. What I’d give to be like the heroines in my novels. The ones that get fucked by gorgeous men with huge cocks, their bodies lavished with so much attention that it sends them to another world. Who needs flowers and candy? Not me. Not anymore. What I want is a nice, thick cock to fill me to the brink of ecstasy.

Therein lies the great irony of my life. I write hot, sexy, romance novels, yet my existence is anything but. I’m not carefree like the women who grace the pages of my books. But then again, that’s probably why I write them. I can live out my deepest, darkest fantasies.

That’s what happens when you grow up in Wisconsin with two strict parents and attend catholic schools for far too many years. You become repressed, and then you rebel against your repression by writing steamy romance novels.

Or at least I did.

The family picture on the dresser comes into focus: my parents and two younger sisters. My stomach twists. I miss them terribly, but I had to get away. I couldn’t handle all the rules, the expectations that I could never live up to no matter how hard I tried. And believe me, I tried.

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